Midnight
by deearem
Summary: Randi-Lee Jackson is a 25 year-old barista whose life is going nowhere. Her parents' marriage is crumbling and she has no plans to use her college degree, which is one of many things upsetting her judgmental and controlling mother. But after meeting an attractive-and odd-man named Augusti at the club, her world is turned even further upside down.
1. Rain

The boom of thunder made me drop the dirty coffee mug that I was cleaning onto the floor. It smashed into about five or six pieces and I cursed to myself. "The beginning of summer, and a full-on thunderstorm?" asked Mark, my coworker. He had just started working at Freddie's Café and was from California, a long way from southeast Texas, where he was now.

"Yeah the weather here is like that," I said absentmindedly as I grabbed a toy broom and dustpan from beside the register.

"Uh, need any help there, Randi?" Mark asked me.

"No, I got it, and _please_, called me Randi-_Lee_," I stressed. Two weeks on the job at the café, working the almost exact same shifts as me, and he _still_ couldn't just say my whole first name? Ugh. In his defense, though, everyone has always tried to call me Randi instead of Randi-Lee, and I've just hated it my entire life. It's wrong to take my lifelong frustrations out on Mark, but he was a lazy moron and it felt nice to get annoyed at him. I looked out the café windows, which took up most of the walls in the dining area, and sighed as the sprinkling from earlier started to turn into actual rain. _Surely at this point the rain is going to drive away any customers we were going to get_, I thought to myself. _No one to distract me from Mark. _"Great," I grumbled as I dumped the porcelain shards into a trash can.

I left the service area and walked through a door that swung in so that I was in a little foyer-type area in between the dry storage and the office. I checked the schedule on the wall next to the office door and traced my finger down "Wednesday" to see who else came in that day. It was about noon, and Misty wasn't going to come in until 2. Freddie's owner and general manager, Mr. Steward, liked having two cashiers available until closing, where one usually went home while the other took the thirty or so minutes to close the café.

I went into the office where the current MOD, manager on duty, Ken, was playing Draw Something on his iPhone. "Ken, it's pouring now," I informed him. "We're not going to get any more customers for hours. Think I can just go home?"

"If anything, I'd send Mark home," Ken said without looking up. "That kid is a moron."

"He got here at ten, and I've been here since four-thirty! I'm sure he and you will be fine for the next couple of hours until Misty gets here."

"Nah, I'm fine here," he said, his tone telling me that he didn't like my suggestion that he actually do his job. "Besides, I know you, Randi-Lee; you'll find something productive to do."

"I don't see why I have to be the _only_ productive one," I whispered as I left the office. I walked back out to the front, sighing. Mark was leaning against the counter where we placed drinks for people to pick up, messing around on his phone. "Man, Ken is really good at drawing things," he told me as I neared.

"You're in separate rooms playing the same game with each other?" I asked, half in disbelief.

"Yeah! I mean, if we were in the same room, it wouldn't be as fun."

I turned my back to him and closed my eyes, slowly shaking my head. I scanned the completely empty dining area and noticed a table that had been abandoned by a businessman earlier; it had an empty mug on it as well as some crumbs from the pastry he ate. I grabbed a wet cloth and made my way over to clean the table.

Freddie's Café had three round dark brown tables that each seated four people, five matching small rectangular tables that each fit two people, and then along each of the two main walls were a long couch and a loveseat with low tables in front of them. On the right side of the café, the couch was floral print and the loveseat was light blue; on the other side, the couch and loveseat were faded olive green and bright red, respectively. At night teenagers and groups of friends loved lounging on the couches and loveseats for hours, but during the day they were hardly touched. Near our bathrooms in the right back corner were tall wooden bookshelves filled with books from Mr. Steward's home: some of his mother's old cookbooks, classics from the 1930s to the 1980s, and children's books that belonged to his late son, Fredrick, or "Freddie", whom the café is named after.

"Look at that crazy person," Mark remarked to me. I walked back behind the service counter and looked out the glass door to see a tall African-American man wearing a long black, leather trench coat slowly making his way to our door. He was wearing slacks and simple black loafers. A black bowler sat upon his head and thick, dark brown dreadlocks fell down to his shoulders. He held a white cane and wore sunglasses, telling me that he was blind. I took the initiative and walked over to the door and opened it for him. The strong winds blew against the door and I grunted as I fought against it. Big droplets of rain slammed into my face and I had to hold onto my dark green work baseball cap. "Here, I have the door open for you, sir," I said to him as he neared and towered over me. His head turned to my direction, and I felt my cheeks get warm. I couldn't see his eyes at all from his sunglasses, which made me feel a bit uneasy, even if he was blind. I just smiled politely and he nodded his head, smiling a tiny bit, not parting his lips.

He slowly walked into the café, water dripping off his coat and onto the floor. I pulled the door closed behind him and walked alongside him. "Have you been to Freddie's before, sir?" I asked him. He nodded at me and stopped walking when his cane hit the service counter base. I got behind my register and pointed at the wet floor sign beside Mark. He sighed and rolled his eyes before moving away from the counter and walking into the back to find some dry towels.

I looked at the man and studied his face for a moment: he had a square facial shape and high cheek bones. His skin was about the color of this 80% cocoa dark chocolate bar that my mother enjoys and it looked so smooth. His nostrils were wide and his lips were big and almost appeared to be _faded_ pink. He was quite handsome and I found myself to still be blushing.

"What may I get for you, sir?" I asked the man when he turned his head toward me.

"I'd just like one café latte, please, young lady," he said with a slight Cajun accent.

"Yes, sir. That will be $3.50, please."

He handed me a $50 bill and started to walk away. "Keep the change," he said before I could protest. I blinked and took my ginormous tip out of the register slowly, in disbelief. I quickly began to heat up the milk for his latte, smiling to myself. I glanced at the man; he was sitting at the table I had recently cleaned, his back to the service counter. After his mug was filled with espresso, I poured the milk into it and then topped it with foam from the milk. I placed it on a small plate and carried it to him. I placed it in front of him. "Do you need anything else, sir? Any water or sugars?" I offered.

He simply shook his head. "No, but thank you, miss. Your kindness is appreciated."

"I'd hope that people would treat you kindly," I said.

"You and I both." He smiled, his teeth straight and very white.

I laughed back, a bit nervously. "Well, enjoy your latte, sir, and thank you very much," I said before turning away and walking back to the counter. Mark was wiping up the little puddles that the man left in his wake, and Ken was at my register, looking out the windows. "And you said no one else was going to come in," he said to me, raising his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes.

* * *

I was in the restroom when the man left, nearly two hours later. Ken and Mark were chatting and putting fresh pastries in our three-shelf display. "Did he leave?" I asked.

"Yup, and he also left his table dirty so you can clean it up, too," Ken said.

"Maybe he left you a tip," Mark said, softening the blow of Ken's mean comment. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time. It was about time for me to leave, and one more table wouldn't kill me. I walked over to where he was sitting to see his mug still ¾ full of his latte. _So weird_. I also found it odd that the table still looked so shiny—no dust or crumbs or anything. I don't know why I noticed it, but it made a shiver run down my spine. I shook myself and picked up the dishes. I cleaned the latte mug, forcing myself to stop thinking about it. The café door opened and I heard Misty's high-pitched squeal. I smiled and sighed in relief at the thought of my shift being over. No more Ken or Mark for the rest of the day! I contained my excitement the best I could as we counted my money. I grabbed my things, had Misty chat my ears off for a full two minutes, and ran outside. I could've swung around the wet poles, I was so happy.

I stopped being stupid and put on my coat. It was beige with red flannel inside. I didn't like how it looked against my white skin, but it was a good coat and a gift from my mother. I opened my umbrella and walked to where my dad's car was parked. The rain wasn't as crazy as before, but I did see a group of darker clouds slowly approaching, so I knew this storm wasn't up yet. Freddie's was located near downtown Houston, TX. I, however, lived in Pasadena and had to commute. It was convenient for me to work at Freddie's when I was going to University of Houston Downtown, but now that I live at home, it's been a bit annoying commuting four days a week to Houston. My mother especially gets on my case about it, but even if I found a job near home, my friends lived in Houston, and I'd drive to see them anyway.

A half hour later I was home. Our house was in a nice area and was a two-story with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. I had my own room and was the only child, so the third bedroom was used a guest bedroom. I parked the car in the garage and walked into our kitchen. My mother was smoking next to the open window, on the phone, an open catalog in front of her. She glanced at me with her bright blue eyes and waved unenthusiastically. She had gotten her nails done earlier, I noticed; they were long and red this month. I didn't bother waving back, for her eyes were glued to her catalog once she lowered her hand. I shook my head and went to my room upstairs.

I lounged on the leather couch in the living room after I changed out of my work clothes. My closest friend, Monica, texted me: **Hey girl wanna go to a club tonight?** _What the hell is she thinking? I hate clubs!_

I glanced at the clock and then checked text messages from my dad that I ignored earlier: **Hey cupcake, when you get home, tell your mom that I'm working until 8, so I probably won't be home until nine. Love, Dad.** _Oh, hell no. _I'd take clubbing than staying here at home with Mom for the next six hours. And it was Wednesday, meaning she'd try to drag me to bible study with her. No, thanks.

I texted Monica: **Yeah sure, if you pick me up.**

**Get you at six!**

* * *

Around 5:30 I was in the bathroom, doing my hair. "Knock, knock," Mom said as she stood on the threshold, smiling at me. It was the first thing she said to me all day. While I was in the living room, she just stayed in the kitchen, talking on the phone. Even when I grabbed some snacks from the pantry, she ignored me.

"Hey, Mom," I said, doing my best to avoid her gaze in the mirror, and failing. I swallowed hard when I saw the reflection her caring smile that I'm lucky if I see thrice a week. "Do anything fun today?"

"Oh, just the usual," she said, looking at her nails. "Molly did my nails, I called around the phone tree. Stuff like that."

"Cool. Dad's gonna be late."

"Of course he is."

"Why can't he tell you himself? I don't really like being in the middle like this."

"You'd have to ask your father that," she sighed. "Have fun at work?"

"No. Ken is an ass and it was so slow because of the rain. But some blind guy came in and left me a big tip."

"Wow, lucky you. I figure only the blind would leave the house during the rain."

"I'm pretty sure they can still hear…"

"So you're going out, too?"

"Yes, Monica and I are going to a club."

She laughed some. "Should I be worried?"

I sprayed my hair and brushed it so it became wavy before putting it up in a ponytail with a cute clip. "Why would you be worried?" I asked, facing her.

"You have no experience with men," she said matter-of-factly. "And Monica runs off for a quick tryst in the bathroom stalls with any guy who makes eye contact with her. I mean, do you _know_ what to do when a guy talks to you?"

I clenched my jaw. My mother and I weren't the closest (obviously), so I never told her about my four boyfriends or my various hookups over the years. I always remained mum on the subject of men, mostly to avoid her being all judgmental and just in general disapproving of what I do with my life. Then, however, I realized that she took that as I was terrified of men. _She probably thinks I'm a lesbian, too._ I sighed and crossed my arms. Her smile was gone, replaced by her frown and raised eyebrows, waiting for my response.

"Yes, I pretty much know what to do," I slowly said.

"What does 'pretty much' mean?" she almost demanded. "I don't want you going out and getting assaulted!"

"You're overreacting and acting like I can't get assaulted any other time. Sure, there are going to be men there who have unethical motives, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't go. I could get hurt by a man on my way to my car, too." I turned away from her, signaling to her that I was done with the conversation, to put on a bit of makeup. I heard her stomp off and I shook my head. I knew that her anger was for my dad, but I was there, so why not direct it at me? _She was probably projecting_, I thought as I grabbed my blush.

I splashed a bit of pink blush on my pale cheeks and put on a light amount of dark brown eyeliner to my bottom lids. I was wearing a grey dress and sparkly black tights, so I decided upon a light pink eye shadow to add more color to my face. I know it wasn't the most attractive color match, but it was just what I felt like wearing that night, which was more important to me. I slipped on a pair of silver heels and was trying to decide between a clutch and a purse when Monica started calling me. "Shit," I muttered as I grabbed the clutch and shoved my ID, credit card, and cash into it.

"RANDI-LEE!" Mom called from downstairs. "Monica is here!"

"Okay!" I shouted back as I gave myself a glance in to the mirror to make sure I looked decent. I dashed down the stairs, holding onto the banister tightly to prevent myself from breaking my neck, and quickly strode to the front door. "Okay, leaving now," I said, looking around. I saw the kitchen light on and heard Mom chatting away. Back on the phone. I sighed and left, hoping tonight was going to be a good one.


	2. Hypnotic

Monica and I had been friends since sophomore year of college. She was in my biology class and we were lab partners. We both sucked at science, especially that boring class taught by annoying Dr. Hendrix. We mostly goofed off all the time and we barely passed. But damn did we have fun. Ever since we hang out weekly and have the occasional sleepover when something big happens in our lives.

I got into Monica's apple red Volkswagen Beetle and hugged her tightly. "Hey girl!" she said, grinning.

"Hey," I said with as much happiness as I could muster…which wasn't much. She frowned at me as I buckled up. "Everything okay?" she asked.

"Not really. Mom is being herself, and work was crappy. Like, some days Ken is alright, and other days he is just an asshole to me."

"He's a douche for sure," she said, backing out of my driveway. "But whatever, you're off for the next three days, right?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm thinking of asking Mr. Steward if I can work nights. That way Mom can do more things during the day with the car, maybe see more of her friends and not be so cranky all the time, And I won't have to see Ken. I'd work with Luca, or whatever the new manager's name is."

"That'd be cool, I guess."

"Only downside would be hoping that Mom brings me the car back on time, but we'll see." I messed with her radio. "What club are we even going to?" I glanced at Monica's clothing choice: hot pink tube top that could barely cover all of her large breasts, tight leather miniskirt, and fishnet stockings. I was scared to see what her shoes looked like. "A rave-type club," she said.

"Wow, really?"

"What? I enjoy them!"

"You know, when you invited me, I thought that it'd be at least a little bit tame, but now I know that when it comes to clubs, I can never trust you."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "You'll have fun, I swear!"

I grumbled and glared out the window as we got on the freeway.

* * *

The club was called "HYPNOTIC" and the sign was written in bold, neon green letters. There wasn't a line, mostly because it had just opened. It was still daylight out and everything. "Why are we even here so early?" I asked Monica as we walked from the parking lot up to the front door.

"To get some drinks while it's still Happy Hour and to get the alcohol in us now before it's too crowded to even get water," she said as she flashed her ID to the bouncer. I fumbled with mine and held it out so he could see it properly, but he just nodded at me and looked away. I put it back in the clutch and followed Monica inside.

After entering the club, the bar was to the right and the huge dance floor was to the left. A sitting area was in between the two, acting as a buffer zone, I figured. The building was as big as a warehouse and was filled with different colors and pumping music. Monica dragged me to the bar that was glass and lit up. Every few minutes it changed to another color. We sat at it and the Hispanic bartender walked over. His accent was very thick and his shirt was way too tight. Monica ordered us some cocktails amidst flirting with him. He grinned and walked away to get our drinks, swinging his hips. "He's gay, you know," I told her.

"Doesn't mean I can't have fun!" she giggled.

* * *

Two hours later, the club was getting packed. We were well drunk and spent the time drinking water and running to the bathroom. I came back after my sixth time peeing and fell beside Monica in the sitting area, sighing. "I hope I don't go anymore, because that bathroom line is already starting to get long," I groaned.

"Yeah, everyone is already drinking pretty hard," she said, glancing around at the girls dressed skimpier than her who were stumbling on the dance floor.

"See any hot guys yet?" I asked, crossing my legs tightly. I had drank, which meant I was itching for some action.

"A few, but the bimbos are thirsty tonight."

"We'll find some."

She looked at me, a bit surprised, grinning. "I like it when _this_ Randi-Lee comes out to play! Come on, let's get on the dance floor and shake it."

We got onto the dance floor and started to move our bodies to the heavy beats. The DJ said something about someone requesting Skrillex, and he played a new song that sounded like what I would assume would be the sound of two fax machines getting it on. "What is this shit?" I asked Monica over the bass that shook me to my chest.

"I think it's like dubstep or something?" she replied, cringing. "Brandon likes this crap," she added, talking about her teenage brother.

I didn't like the music at all, but I just let the feel of the beats take over me. I was grinding against Monica playfully and popping my ass out as much as I could. "You look ridiculous!" Monica laughed as she swung her arms above her head like a pop star from the 90s.

"Who cares? It's fun!" I laughed back. I must not have looked _too_ ridiculous, because a couple of guys made their way to us, smiling. Monica immediately started pressing her butt against one's crotch, and I sighed, turning my back to her. I'd be lucky if I saw her again before midnight at that point. The guy attracted to me was alright; his hair was spiked in an ugly fashion and he put on too much cheap cologne, but he wasn't too ugly in the face. I gently rubbed my body against his, his hands on my hips. He kept trying to reach for my thighs, and I kept smacking his hand away or moving so he missed. Eventually I caught the eye of a cuter guy and quickly made my way over to him. _Oh, he's super cute._ I grinned and pressed my front to his. He gripped my back, smirking. It was looking like I'd get a kiss out of him when his boyfriend came up behind him and started yelling at him. _Yikes! I do NOT want to be a part of this._ I slinked away to get more water.

From the sitting area, I scanned the dance floor, looking for hotties. I saw a lot of good looking guys, but they were occupied with other girls or weren't into girls at all. I sighed and shrugged, but my hormones weren't having any of that. I felt a tickle down there and bit my bottom lip. I finished off my bottle of water and marched back onto the dance floor confidently. I rocked my body slowly to the music and avoided bumping into anyone. I saw quite a few people pop pills into their mouths and I saw too many skirts hitched up. I looked away from those people and then my eyes locked on a pair of **red** ones.

_Wait, what?_

I blinked and stared. Yup, I was seeing it! Red. Eyes. Obvious contacts, but they stood out, for sure. People moved out of the way and I saw whom the eyes belonged to: a tall, muscular African-American man.

Strobe lights flickered to a new song, a slower song. "It's like gold dust, you hear me coming through your speakers," a woman sang beautifully. The man slowly made his way toward me and I felt shivers run across my skin. I managed to get my feet to move and I, too, made my way to him. People bumped into me and stepped on my shoes while he managed to avoid every body that was near him.

And then we were in front of one another. He had dreadlocks that were tied up into a ponytail of sorts. A square face shape, high cheekbones, and big, beautiful lips that looked so kissable. His eyes were most definitely red, piercing red. I felt like they saw _through_ me. _Where have I seen him before?_ I tried to rack my brain, but the alcohol and bright lights made it impossible to think. I could only _feel_ at that moment, and I felt a tingle in my groin that made me press my thighs together. Immediately after I did that, he grabbed me close, so fast that the breath was rushed out of my body, leaving me breathless. His hands were big and his grip was hard. His body itself was _incredibly_ hard. He pulled me close so my bosom was against his large chest. I shakily placed my hands on his shoulders, in awe. He grinned, and man, were his teeth so white. And then his lips met mine. They covered mine and his tongue was deep in my mouth, claiming me, almost. I kissed back, flinching at first at how _cold_ he felt! But I forgot as carnal desire overtook me. Our kiss was hot and made me yearn for more of him.

Next thing I knew, we were in a far corner of the club, a dark one. Panic overtook me as he placed his hands on my thighs and started lifting my skirt up. I broke the kiss and grabbed his wrists. "Wh-what are you doing?" I asked, struggling to catch my breath.

He looked down at me. "You want me to stop?" he asked.

"W-well…" _My mother would disapprove so hard right now._

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he said, and for some reason, I felt reassured. I just nodded, closing my mouth. His mouth was on my neck, hungrily. He kissed and sucked at my neck, hard, making me moan and grip him. My dress was at my waist now and my panties were on resting on my ankles. _Geez, I wasn't expecting this!_ Even through the immense pleasure, I felt very self-conscious about my lack of shaving or trimming of my nether regions at that time. I began to stiffen and shift uncomfortably. Almost as if he was reading my mind, he actually ran his fingers through my pubic hair, twirling a few longer strands on the ends of his fingers. It made me giggle and my body pressed itself against his hands. His tongue got to my throat and I felt his thumb rub against my most sensitive part. I cried out as another song started and as one of his fingers entered my void.

I managed to pull myself together enough to reach down into his loose cargo pants to wrap my hand around _him_. _Well, that's quite thick indeed._ I smirked some and hand my hand up and down the length. It was his turn to groan and he stopped paying attention to my neck, panting. Our eyes met again. His eyes were filled with pure desire. I ran a finger over his end and he gritted his teeth, making me smile. He inserted another finger, for revenge, and I threw my head back, gasping.

We went on like this for maybe a moment longer before an orgasm overcame me. It was pretty intense and made my legs shake. I quickened my strokes and he let out a groan as he, too, climaxed. In a daze, we took our hands from one another. We were both breathing pretty hard, and I suddenly felt awkward. This was the first time I ever hooked up with someone _in _a club. What do we do now? Wash up and exchange phone numbers? "Well that was pretty awesome," I said weakly.

He laughed some and nodded. I noticed his canine teeth were very long and very sharp…

_Oh. He's probably into that stupid vampire fad. Hence the eyes and the fangs. Weird._ I smiled, glancing around to see how long the line in the bathroom was. "Um, I'll go now, I guess," I said, putting my underwear back on and pulling my dress down.

"Am I scaring you off already?" he asked me in a slight Cajun accent. I stared at him. _Where have I heard that exact voice before?_ I racked my brain again. Why did this guy seem so familiar to me? "Uh…" I couldn't find a decent response.

"Ah, I see that I am, aren't I?" he asked, leaning in close to me. I suddenly felt trapped, scared. _I have to get out of here._ I tried to shove him off of me, but he was more solid than a brick wall. He didn't budge even a millimeter. He laughed again and moved out of my way. "_Ciao_, chile!" he called as I ran away from him, panicking.

I ran through the crowd of dancers on the dance floor. I bumped into a man on accident and he turned to me. His eyes were…_red_. He growled at me and I screamed and ran around him. Suddenly, everywhere I looked, I saw people with fangs and red eyes. My chest felt tight and I couldn't breathe as I ran around everyone.

After what felt like an eternity, I made it to the restroom. There was no line, and I burst through the door, hitting some chick in the mouth. "OW!" she shouted, but I ignored her and ran to the sink. I stared at my reflection. I looked terrified. I was pale, sweating, breathing hard. My neck had about five red hickeys on it, and I cursed. _Time to start wearing my scarves and turtlenecks again._ I splashed water on my face and patted it with a paper towel. Monica left a bathroom stall behind me and smiled at me. "Hey, you!" she said. She grinned and walked toward me. "You alright, Randi-Lee?" she asked, her grin disappearing.

"Yeah, just had a guy creep me out," I said, sighing.

"The same one that was leeching off your neck?"

I put a hand on my neck. "Oh, shut up. Do you have any products for these?"

"We can go to my place and see. I'm ready to leave, personally."

"Did everything go alright for you?" I asked as we left together, avoiding the dance floor much to my relief.

"Yeah it was okay. I blew him and then he booked it. Go figure. But I found someone else to make out with after that."

I grimaced at her. "Ew."

"That's why they made breath mints!"

"That's just…yeah, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Whatever! Let's get some Whataburger."


	3. Marriage

The next morning I woke up in my bed, tense and sweaty. I didn't dream about anything at all, oddly. I was expecting a nightmare or two about vampires, but got nothing. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or not, for my sleep was not the best I had ever gotten before either. I went into the bathroom and looked at my dark hickeys in the mirror. I frowned and took a shower, washing my shoulder-length light brown hair and scrubbing my body hard. I felt weird after the previous night and hoped that the shower would purify me, in a manner of speaking. It didn't, but it was clean, at least.

I dressed in some PJs and applied some of Monica's concealer to my hickeys. It mostly did the trick. Luckily we were the same boring shade of white girl. I went downstairs and heard someone in the kitchen. I looked at the clock in the living room to see that it was only 8 a.m. which meant Dad was up. I smiled and went into the kitchen and hugged him as he made oatmeal. "Hey! You scared me!" he laughed, putting a hand on my arm. I poured myself a mug of Kenyan coffee that he brewed and made sure it had plenty of sugar and cream; Kenyan was honestly too strong for me, but it was the only coffee my dad bought, unfortunately. "Have a fun night out?" he asked me as I sat at the table and glanced through the morning paper.

"Yeah it was alright," I said. I smiled out of comfort; when my dad was home, our home actually felt like home, not a prison. He sat across from me with a bowl of his oatmeal. He was wearing a plain gray shirt, flannel PJ bottoms, and his slippers. Per usual, his graying dirty blonde hair was slicked back, mostly to hide his slowly forming bald patch on the top of his head. My dad was a pale man with a nose like the beak of a vulture. His eyes were a piercing icy blue color like mine and people usually felt uncomfortable staring into them for too long because of how light they were. (I also experienced that in new social situations.)

He smiled at me as he put fresh fruit on top of his oatmeal. "Did you have, erm, fun last night?" I asked awkwardly.

"Working isn't exactly fun, dear, but I made it as…'fun' as possible, I suppose," he chuckled.

"Were you actually working last night?"

"What else would I be doing, Randi-Lee?" He stopped eating now.

"Well, Dad, I don't know _what_ you're doing; working late, going to a bar, cheating on Mom…"

He shook his head. "It's sad that my own daughter thinks about things like this."

"What else am I supposed to think? I love you a lot, Dad, more than Mom. If or when you two _ever_ divorce, I'm living with you. But it's hard for me to respect you if you're cheating on her."

"And it's good that you feel that way. I've raised you to be this way."

"So you are?"

His silence was my answer. I scoffed loudly, anger rising up inside me. "Before you get mad, your mother knows I do it and I've always told her," he stated.

"So what? That's supposed to make it _not_ cheating?"

"No, I'm just telling you that I've never lied to your mother and I never will."

"Why not just leave her?"

"She doesn't want to divorce."

"And you don't?"

"I never wanted to hurt you, cupcake. Divorces can be tough. And with a personality like your mother's, it would be tough, especially on you."

"But what about now? Now that I know?"

"Now…I still don't feel any need to divorce her. She'd just refuse anyway."

"You're both so ridiculous!" I got up, feeling so frustrated. _Why can't I have normal parents?_

"Randi-Lee, calm down," Dad said, rolling his eyes. "You're young and haven't been married. You don't understand."

"I don't think I need to be married to understand that this whole thing between you and Mom isn't normal or healthy. Mom is a controlling bitch, we know. You're off…_fucking_ some other woman to escape me and Mom, Mom is here being even more miserable and nasty, and what about me? I'm here wondering where my dad is and wondering why my mom treats me like shit. You think that the façade of having my parents together when I'm well aware they're not is helping me? It makes you look masochistic and selfish."

He finished his oatmeal while I ranted at him, listening to me but not looking at me. He rinsed out his bowl and put it in the sink before finally looking at me. "I know I'm never here, and I'm sorry for that," he said, grabbing my hand. "If I _could_ be here, Randi-Lee, I would be."

"And what does that mean?" I was so exasperated.

"Whenever I do try to spend time here—before I cheated—your mother constantly sent me away. We fought all the time when you were at school or work. It's impossible for me to be here."

"Then after we get home from work, you and I can go do something, go out together."

"And what? Come home to her screaming and crying and then have her mistreat you when you two are alone? Forget about it, Randi-Lee. I know it seems barbaric and asinine, but it is—or was—honestly the best way." He grabbed his coffee mug and went into the living room to watch TV, probably CNN. I washed his pot and bowl to take my mind off our conversation, so I could calm down.

When the dishes were in the cupboard, I went straight to my room, not looking at him once. I sat at my computer desk in the left corner of my room and logged on. I went straight to Facebook to see what my local friends were up to. Monica uploaded pictures from last night from her phone. I shook my head and untagged myself from the unflattering ones. I scanned my news feed to see if anyone had plans I could crash. As usual Misty invited half of Facebook to Freddie's Poetry Night on Friday. I had never gone, mostly because why would I go to work on my day off? _Maybe I'll consider it this weekend_, I thought. Was my home life really becoming so difficult for me that I was starting to go to work to hear bad hipster poetry on my _days off_? "Good Lord, my life sucks," I muttered as I liked statuses idly.

* * *

I managed to stay locked up in my room until dinnertime, when my dad forced me to go downstairs. I trudged into our kitchen to our small dining table to find a savory meatloaf dinner awaiting me. I sat down, looking a bit more chipper at the freshly made mashed potatoes and steamed spinach. "Looks great, Mom," I said, looking at her with a small smile on my face. However, my smile met her cold glare and it went away.

"I know your father…told you things today," she said as she started scooping potatoes on her plate.

"Oh. Okay." What else could I even say?

"Randi-Lee, if you want us to divorce, we can," she continued, looking right at me. "As my daughter I want to put you first."

_Only when you feel like it._ "Don't _you_ want a divorce?" I asked.

"Not really."

I sighed and shook my head. "You two are fucking insane."

"Watch your mouth!" she snapped.

"No. Mom, you're miserable, and Dad, you're being intimate with another person! Aren't those signs that you should, you know, break up?"

"Well, yes, but breaking up doesn't always mean divorcing," Dad said matter-of-factly as he filled his plate and dug in.

"We could always just, legally separate, but I'm not moving," Mom stated as she cut up her meatloaf and drizzled BBQ sauce over it.

"Between a divorce, moving, and buying new property, it'd be messy."

"Yes, and I'm not changing my name either way."

_What the fuck_. What kind of mad house was I living in? There I was, sitting with my parents, listening to their materialistic reasons for not breaking up even though their relationship wasn't working. "If you're so concerned, Randi-Lee, then we'll break up, Jesus Christ," Mom said, rolling her eyes at me.

"You shouldn't be breaking up because of me!" I shouted. "You should be breaking up because it's not working for _you_! I'm not involved with your marriage, I don't have a say like it's some kind of damn democracy. I just can't understand why you two have such a fucked up view on this subject."

"No, you can't understand because you've never been married, let alone with a child involved. It's easier this way for all of us."

"Not me," I grumbled.

"Because you're letting it."

"Randi-Lee has every right to be upset," Dad defended.

"I agree…I just think she should get over it. As she said, it's not _her_ marriage, why should she even be caring?"

I dropped my fork loudly onto my plate. "Okay, having dinner in my room," I declared, standing up with my plate in my hands. "I'm tired of talking to both of you about this, and I wish I wish I didn't care about your stupid sham of a marriage so I could actually move on with my life."

As I left, and as the tears rolled down my cheeks, I heard Mom mutter: "Randi-Lee, being overdramatic as usual."

* * *

I played "Today's Alternative Radio" on Pandora on my computer as I sat on my bed and tapped a pen against the notebook in front of me. I finished my dinner and thought about Poetry Night. I already texted Misty to tell her I was coming and now I was thinking of poetry to write. The idea struck me as I browsed Facebook a second time as I ate my dinner. I didn't necessarily excel at writing, but it was a good outlet for emotions, especially the negative ones.

I sighed at the notebook. _How do I even start?_ I wrote down some words I felt at the moment: anger, betrayal, hurt, upset, livid, irate, lied to. _And how can I turn this blob of words into a stupid poem? Do I care about rhythm or whatever? _I lay on my stomach to get more comfortable and furrowed my brow in concentration. I began to write: "_Lost in the madness that is my house/Trapped in this maze like a hungry mouse._" "That's…not a bad start," I muttered to myself, smiling a little. I finished my poem in about fifteen minutes and looked at it. It was definitely not a good one at all, but it was something. And maybe reading my latest deepest and darkest feelings to a bunch of people who drink espressos late at night would make me feel better. Somehow.


	4. Poetry

Friday night I entered Freddie's Café, immediately feeling uncomfortable. There were a lot of people there, maybe about fifty or so. Misty was working the espresso machine, pumping out cappuccinos and mochas, while Mark was at the register. He smiled and waved to me, then tapped Misty's shoulder. She looked up at me and beamed. "Hey, girl!" she greeted as I neared.

"Hey, I had no idea this many people showed up to these things," I said as she handed me a complimentary decaf iced tea.

"Yeah it's been getting more popular! It's good and fun! I'm glad you came."

"You gonna read some poetry?" Mark asked me as he finished ringing up orders.

"Actually, yeah, I wrote a poem so I might read it," I said, sipping the tea. "I mean…why not?"

"That's the spirit!" Misty giggled. "Go and mingle! A lot of these people are super nice."

"Reassuring." I looked around and saw a lot of different personalities: bubbly and outgoing, artsy, shy and reserved, laid back. Surely I could find someone to chat with. I walked around and commented on cute shoes and eavesdropped on interesting conversations, but didn't do much serious talking.

I saw a familiar blonde sitting on the floral print couch. "Er, Jessica Sanchez?" I asked as I approached her.

She turned me and sure enough, it was Jessica Sanchez from high school! "Oh my gosh, Randi-Lee!" She handed her tea to the girl next to her and stood up and hugged me briefly. "I haven't seen you around since I got home from A&M!"

"Do you ever stop by here? I actually work here."

"Shut up! I come here on the weekends all the time."

"Oh, I usually work mornings on the weekdays."

"Damn, we've just barely missed each other. Come and sit!" She pulled me beside her and introduced me to her friends around me. I barely caught their names and I didn't really care…until she got to Augusti. He came up while she was doing the preliminary introductions and when I turned to look at him, things clicked together.

He was the man from the club.

Except this time, he was bald and his eyes weren't red; they were a rich honey color.

"Randi-Lee, this is Augusti, he's a friend of a friend," Jessica said.

Augusti looked at me and smiled instantly, a _knowing_ smile. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said, taking my shaking hand and kissing it tenderly, his soft, cold lips sending shivers up my arm.

"D-ditto," I murmured, trying my best to glare at him.

"Isn't his accent just _lovely_," Jessica swooned. "Where are you from again?" she asked him.

"Just Louisiana, next door," he answered, drinking some coffee out of a mug. "My parents are from the Caribbean though they were raised in Louisiana too."

"Interesting," I said, not taking my eyes off of him.

"Where did you get that iced tea?" he asked me, randomly.

"Um, over at the service counter…"

"Oh, can you show me?"

I glanced at Jessica, who grinned at me and nudged me. "Yes, of course I can." I got up and walked away with him, on autopilot. When we were out of earshot, I asked, "I thought you had hair? What happened to it?"

"Oh, I wear a wig a lot of the time," he laughed, grabbing a free iced tea from the service counter as he finished his coffee.

"Along with your contacts?"

"Yup."

"It felt pretty real to me."

"Doesn't mean it was."

I stared at him for a moment, and he just grinned at me, smugly. I was so on edge and nervous around him. Why? Because of how freaked out I became after we hooked up? _Because he kind of looks like a sociopath right now, maybe?_

"You okay?" he asked me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Uh, not really," I muttered. "I'll be honest; you freaked me out. Your whole…vampire act was scary."

He laughed and put a hand on my shoulder. "Calm down." I moved away, narrowing my eyes, making him arch an eyebrow. "And _now_ you're distrustful of me?" he asked. "After I could have done God-knows-what with you in that corner the other night?"

"I was drinking, okay?" I countered, angrily. "I wasn't thinking straight, and you were fine until afterwards. You just really freaked me out."

He sighed and nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry I intimidated you," he said, sincerely. He gently clinked his glass against mine. The gesture was kind of cute and made me smile a tad and nod at him. "It's…okay, I suppose."

"So you don't think fondly of vampire culture?" he asked me, looking more serious.

"I don't know. I mean, everyone is into different stuff, I don't want to condemn it just because I'm not into it."

"What a respectful way to approach the subject. I appreciate that."

"Right." _Who talks like that?_ "So how old are you?" I asked, taking him off guard a little bit.

"Twenty-eight," he said. "And you?"

"Twenty-five."

"Is my age significant or something?"

"Not really. I just wanted to know why you talked like you actually respected women."

"Wow, you don't really have high expectations for men, do you? I see why you're still single."

"Who said I'm single?"

"You don't seem like a girl who would cheat."

"Now what's that supposed—"

He sighed and made me put my drink to my lips to shut me up. "I was complimenting you," he said.

I drank some tea and sighed, exasperated. "Some compliment."

"You don't like me, so anything nice I say to you will bounce right off, won't it?"

"Why ask me if you've already made up your mind?"

"Back to your original observation, I _do_ have a lot of respect for women because I respect _everyone_, not just men, or women, or blacks, etc. I wasn't raised to be like that."

"That's…nice to hear, actually." I smiled some. Meeting someone close to my age with a decent head on their shoulders (even if it came with a fucked up sense of humor)? Right on!

"So are you actually here to read poetry tonight? Or catch up with high school buddies?" he asked, taking my elbow and leading me to a small table. He pushed my chair out for me, and I sat, impressed by how naturally his chivalry came out.

"I…am not sure yet," I admitted, sitting down. I glanced at Jessica, who locked eyes with me and gave me a thumbs up. I looked ahead to see Augusti was already seated. _That seemed quick._ "I'm guessing that means you have a poem prepared?" he asked.

"Yes, it's just not good."

"Most poems aren't good."

"Do _you_ have a poem prepared?"

"Oh, no, of course not."

"And why are you here then?"

"I have friends here, if you haven't noticed."

"You must think you're hilarious," I commented, trying to hide my smile from his sardonic remarks.

"Oh, no, I know it." He smiled a beautiful smile at me to let me know he was just joking. I drank some tea, but I know he saw through it and chuckled at me. "And you know it, too," he added.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied, looking down at my cup.

"Why not read your poem?" he pressed on.

"Like I said, it's not very good. It'd be kind of embarrassing. Really, we should forget I even mentioned it, because I just decided that I won't read it at all." I ran my hand through my hair and I felt his eyes bore into me, making me feel more nervous than I already was.

"It's sad that you're letting your embarrassment get in the way." I looked up at him to see his gaze on my hands, looking zoned out a bit. Normally I would've thought it rude, but with a gaze more piercing than my father's, I was glad he was looking elsewhere.

"It's not _just_ that," I defended. "The poem is kind of personal. I wrote it last night after I basically fought with my stupid parents, and now looking at it, I don't…want anyone to think I'm having issues or something. I mean, besides my coworkers, I know a few other people here."

He looked up at me. "So you work here then?"

_He sure likes to change the subject a lot, huh?_ "Yeah, I do."

"Hm. So let me see your poem."

"What? Why?" I felt panicked at his words.

"I can go and read it for you."

"No, it's fine! I'm sure we'll hear plenty of deep, shitty poetry."

He chuckled at my humor and gave me a reassuring smile that made me feel things that Mom says only married women should feel with their husbands. "Fine, but let me read it anyway?"

"I…um…well…" _What's the point of me even bringing it if I didn't plan for at least one other person to hear it?_ I sighed, defeated, and dug the paper out of my back pocket. I handed it to him, and he scanned it quickly before nodding and looking up at me. "It's not bad," he said. "I've seen much worse."

I breathed out, unaware I was even holding my breath. "I'm not worried about the quality; it's the content that I don't want to be judged for."

"So you had one fight with your parents and vented through writing. That's not a big deal."

"Yeah I don't think you understand how people think. It's not like my close friends are here; these are people I don't know very well who _would_ judge the fuck out of me based on a poem they heard."

"Mmm." He drank his tea, looking peeved and thoughtful. "I forget," he remarked. "Humans are something else." _What an odd thing to say. Did this guy live with wolves before or something?_

"Attention everyone!" Misty's peppy voice boomed throughout the café via the comm system at the service counter. "We're about to start the poetry reading! Last chance to grab drinks and food before we begin so we don't disrupt the poets. When we begin, our brave poets will take turns coming up here in front of the service counter. Audience: make sure to face your chairs toward the poets to give them all your attention and save bathroom breaks for when poets are finished and are switching out. Poets: make sure to read nice and loud so everyone in the café can hear you! Polite applause is acceptable after each reading, and snaps are acceptable when the moment calls for it. Let's get ready to have fun!"

"When are snaps appropriate?" Augusti asked me as we turned our chairs to face the front.

"I honestly have no idea, but I guess we'll find out," I muttered. I realized Augusti still had my poem. I glanced at him, hoping he didn't read it. _Why would he do that? To prove a point?_

After a few moments, the poets started reading. Most of the poems were original, but a few people wanted to share some Emily Dickinson and Sylvia Plath with us just because. We heard rhymes, sonnets, spoken word (in which we discovered when snaps were acceptable), songs and various themes like lost love, lost hot pockets, betrayal, jealous of a friend's new car, first love, and life in general. Most sucked—a LOT—but I actually enjoyed some of them.

Before I knew it, however, Augusti got up and briskly walked toward the service counter without saying anything to me. I stopped breathing and became struck from fear. _OH MY GOD HE'S GOING TO READ IT!_ I slowly drank the rest of my tea, my hand shaking. I took deep breaths and glanced around nervously, afraid someone would notice me freaking out. Augusti cleared his throat and smiled at everyone, looking cool and at ease. I looked around and it seemed like everyone, even the men, was mesmerized by his beauty. Normally I was too, but at that instance, I was too terrified and embarrassed to feel anything else.

"This is a poem, not written by me, but written by a friend of mine," he started. "It was written after an argument they had with another person, though does not, in any way, reflect them; it simply reflects their emotions in the heat of the moment." He made brief eye contact with me, and I couldn't help but smile at him, my face getting warm. He unfolded my poem and read:

_Lost in the madness that is my house,_

_Trapped in this maze like a hungry mouse._

_Every way I turn, another invention._

_Every step I make, another bad intention._

_Your love is a deceiving veil, hiding your true form._

_Tired of all these fallacies from you,_

_Sick of nothing I can ever do._

_Every way I turn, nothing but hate._

_Every step I make, I become more irate._

_I have nowhere to go, my path is too torn._

_Hoping for someone to come and save me,_

_Praying for salvation; a stoning, maybe_

_Where I can feel pain one last time_

_Before my dying star can finally end its dull shine._

_I no longer want to belong to your terrible storm._

His voice was commanding and strong. It drew everyone in and left them breathless when he finished. Everyone clapped enthusiastically and murmured to one another. He bowed a bit and returned to his seat. He pulled his chair closer to mine and slipped the poem into my hand under the table. "That was extremely sweet of you," I whispered as the next poet was approaching. "You really didn't need to do it."

He shrugged and finished his tea. "It was nothing."

"Thanks, regardless."

He glanced at me and reached for my hand under the table. The gesture made me blush. We sat silently as the next poet spoke. I was watching him until I glanced at Augusti to see him staring at me, almost hungrily. I stared back, a mix of feelings flooding me. Everyone clapped as the poet finished his poem and Augusti said, "Want to head out? Go somewhere else?"

"Yes, please," I said. Like I'd ever pass this up? We quickly headed out of the café, and he took me behind the café to a small alley. "Uh, is your car over here or something?" I asked, looking around.

"No." He pinned me to the brick wall, lifting me off the ground. I yelped in surprise and wrapped my legs around his waist. I grabbed onto his rock hard (literally) body and he felt my legs, looking me up and down, taking me in. "These shorts are in my way," he declared, feeling my ass.

"W-wait a minute now!" I clamored. _Do most hook-ups happen like this? _"I'm not fucking you behind my workplace."

"We don't have to have sex, we can do other things, obviously." He ran his fingers through my hair.

"Well, sorry to break it to you, but there's not much we can do in _this_ position."

"I'm sure we can work something out." He trailed gentle kisses down my neck. I rested my head against the wall and sighed, closing my eyes and reveling in the tingling sensation that I felt to my core.

"So is this how it's going to be?" I breathed as I felt his lips on my collarbone. "We run into one another and just…fool around?"

"I guess so," was his blunt reply.

"I'm okay with that, just so you know," I quickly said. I didn't want him thinking I wanted more. I knew that usually scared guys away.

"I'm just tired of you talking," he hissed before covering my mouth with his. We kissed as his hands felt up my shirt and caressed my breasts over my bra. I pressed my pelvic region against his abs where it was resting. He gently let my body slide down a little bit so I could feel his hardness through his pants. I groaned in response. He broke off the kiss and looked at me, his eyes dark. Was it the light? "Have a car?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, it's an SUV," I stammered.

"Lead the way." He put me down roughly. I jogged over to Dad's car parked on the side of the street and unlocked the doors. He opened the back door and laid the backseat flat. "Here?" I asked, glancing around.

"No, I know a place near my apartments."

_This is getting sketchy, Randi-Lee…_ "Um…"

"I'm not going to kill you. I just want what you want right now. Unless you have an objection?"

_Oh who am I kidding?_ "No."

"Good. I'll tell you where to go."

* * *

Five short minutes later we were parked in a super dark alley behind a few closed businesses. We were stretched out in the back of the car, making out and shedding clothes. Finally, we were naked, his cold smooth skin against mine. "Y-you're freezing," I said as he surveyed my body.

"Hm, yeah," he muttered. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I am." I grabbed a condom from my purse as he got one out from his back pocket. He laughed. "How many times do you think we're going to do this?" he asked playfully, feeling my hair again.

"No, it's just my dad always told me to make sure I'm prepared, too. It's stupid to rely on the man to carry condoms. 'It takes two to tango, Randi-Lee.'"

"Smart man." He opened the wrapper and slipped it on. I stared above as he did so, reminding myself of how fucking stupid I was being. _Really, a dark alley, no one knows where I am, we're about to have sex, he could kill me with his bare hands easily…This is the dumbest thing I've ever done!_ I felt him on top of me and I looked at him. He felt my vagina with a finger to test my moistness. He sucked on my breast, making me writhe beneath him. After a few moments of that, he felt again and smiled. "You're ready, then," he said.

"Y-yes," I breathed, ready to ravish him.

He entered me gently, often pulling out after a few centimeters before entering more. I breathed slowly, relaxing my body so it could enter easier. Once we both comfortable, he continued to be gentle while kissing me everywhere and sucking. I moved my hips to meet his and kissed him when I could. _This is one of the best hook-ups ever…so far._

After a few moments, however, Augusti got rough—not so rough that I needed him to stop, but rough out of nowhere. He was plowing into me with force I've never felt before. I could barely catch my breath as he moved. I dug my nails deep into his back and squeals were fucked out of my throat. He moaned into my neck and kept his hands on either side of my head, not touching me at all. His arms were so tense—in fact his whole body was tense.

I felt my orgasm take over me quickly. He slowed to have his thrusts match my muscles clenching and releasing around him. I took this moment to breathe deeply, and I was nearly gasping. "Do we need to stop?" he asked through a clenched jaw.

"N-no, don't stop!" I breathed before kissing him, urging him to dive into me with his strength once more.

We went at it for what felt like forever before he had a climax of his own. He pulled out of me and kissed down my neck, chest, and stomach to my vulva. I lay there, my body numb from the pounding it took. I felt his lovely lips on my clit and feeling surged through me again, making me cry out. His lips opened and his tongue explored my vulva, licking and caressing. I had one final orgasm that made my body shake and my hips buck uncontrollably. I had only ever felt such pleasure with one boyfriend and up until then, I didn't think I'd feel it again. I was truly spent then, laying there like a broken doll, limbs in different directions, staring off, and drowsiness replacing pleasure slowly.

"Don't fall asleep on me, you have to drive home," he said, lying beside me, smirking at me. I looked at him, in awe. "I see you enjoyed yourself," he continued, wiping moisture from the corner of my mouth. "Good. I aim to please."

"How long was it?" I finally managed to ask.

"A good forty-five minutes."

"Damn."

"Ever gone that long before?"

I blushed. "Yeah, I have. It's just been a while."

"I can tell!"

_Was that an…insult? Compliment? Fact?_ I sat up, sighing and collecting my clothes. "Yeah, I need to go home. It's late and…all."

"Of course." He kissed my cheek and got dressed slowly. I put on my bra and panties, watching his glorious body in motion. He opened the left side door and tossed the condom away from the car before stepped out, stretching. I put my shorts and top back on and ran my fingers through my matted-up sex hair quickly before stepping out beside him. The muggy air hit me and I breathed it in deeply. I leaned against my car, my legs still wobbly from the aftermath of our intercourse. "So…I'll see you around?" I said, looking at him.

"I think you shall indeed," he said, looking at the moon in the cloudless night sky. He turned to me, grinning. "You were very fun, and I do indeed hope we cross paths again."

"Well you know where I work now. Do you need a ride home?"

"No, as I said, I live close by."

"Right. See you around."

He quickly stalked off and disappeared into the shadows in a way that made shivers run up my spine.


	5. Attack

I awoke the next morning feeling incredibly sore. I literally groaned as I opened my eyes and reached for my phone on my night stand next to my bed. My back, thighs, abs, and arms ached. I slowly sat up and cracked my back a little bit before turning my body and putting my bare feet to the carpet. I limped to the bathroom and turned on the light. My body looked fine but it felt _horrible_. I sat on the side of the tub and felt my thighs. There was light bruising along my inner thigh and it hurt to look at, let alone touch. I gently pressed against my pelvic bone region and gasped from pain. _Damn, Augusti, you really fucked me up._

I took a long shower and went downstairs after getting dressed. Dad was on the couch, reading something off his iPad and drinking hot tea. I sat by him and leaned against him. "Hey, cupcake," he said before kissing my forehead.

"Good morning. Is Mom still sleeping?"

"Mhm. She and I thought a lot about what you said the other night."

"Oh, yeah?" I pretended to look interested in his iPad.

"We're…going to meet with a divorce lawyer."

Tears immediately built up in my eyes. "O-oh." I cleared my throat and steadied my voice. "I think that's good. That's, ya know, healthy."

"Nothing has been talked about yet, but I'll probably just let your mom keep this house and I'll buy a condo or something in Houston, where my work is.

"Mom wants to live in this big house by herself?"

"Well…I think she thinks you're going to stay with her."

_Oh, Jesus Christ._ "Um, delusional as hell as always." I sighed and sat up. I rubbed the tears from my eyes before they could fall and looked at him.

"Why are you crying?" he asked me, setting his iPad down.

"Because…this is actually going to happen! You, my parents, are actually breaking up. It's upsetting, Dad." By now the tears were falling and the ugly-crying was trying to set in. "Even though I've always known you two practically hated one another, it just felt so comforting to have you two together, still. Like as long as you're together, true love still exists." _God, how childish do I sound right now? _

"Randi-Lee, calm down," he said, wrapping a long arm around me and pulling me close. "You know love exists. But people fall out of love, too."

"I know…It's just going to be…"

"Different. Something that's been there your whole life is changing."

"Don't you ever have people who are selling the home they've lived in _forever_, and they're emotional?" I asked, referring to his career as a real estate agent.

"All the time," he sighed, stroking my hair. "It's going to be hard, but we can do it."

He let me cry it out for a few minutes. I calmed in that time, and asked, "So, you and me in a condo in Houston?"

"Well…yes, but there might be one extra, if they say yes."

_OH. The mystery woman._ "How long have you two been having sex?"

"We haven't _just_ been having sex. We've actually been dating for a couple years now."

_Dating?_ "Does Mom know about that?"

"Not exactly, and it's best she doesn't." I sighed and moved away from him, rubbing my cheeks to dry them. "I'll let her keep whichever car she wants," he continued, "and I thought that I'd help you buy a car of your own." I blinked hard. _Well that doesn't sound so bad…_ The worst part would be telling my Mom, however. The thought made me want to faint. "When should I tell her?" I whispered, afraid she'd listen through the vents or something.

"The mean part of me wants to say _after_ she signs the divorce papers," Dad half-joked, "_but_ you should tell her as soon as possible and when the time arises."

"Ugh." This was torture.

"Have any plans today?" he asked me, picking his iPad up again now that the crisis that was his daughter crying had ended.

"Not really. Just enjoy my day off, I suppose."

"Going to lock yourself up in your room as usual?"

"Once _she_ wakes up? Most likely."

He shook his head at me as I got up and went into the kitchen to make myself breakfast.

* * *

I ended up taking a nap later in the morning only to wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating loudly on my pillow next to my ear. I grabbed it and answered it with a groggy groan.

"Hey, it's Ken," Ken's annoying voice said into my ear.

"What?" I snapped.

"Sasha can't make it in tonight and we need someone to close."

"Uh, I open tomorrow," I said, sitting up.

"Then we'll give you tomorrow off."

"I guess I can…What time?"

"Mark will stay until four, so just come in then."

"Okay, fine." I hung up before I heard anymore and sighed as I lay back on my bed. I hated going into work on my scheduled days off, but I had absolutely nothing to do that day. I also needed to get my mind off my home life.

* * *

I spent the rest of my time in my room until three, when I ran downstairs to grab some fruit before I left. Mom and Dad were talking at the kitchen table and quickly changed the subject when I entered. "Hey, I have to fill in for someone at work tonight," I told them as I went through the fruit basket on the counter.

"Don't they always have two people working at night anyway?" Mom asked, frowning. "You shouldn't be working on your day off."

"It's still more money," Dad said, making Mom roll her eyes. _Oh the irony right now_.

"Yeah, I'm still going," I said, undeterred by Mom's dirty look. "Have a good night, and I love you both." I left quickly, biting into a juicy apple, not wanting to hear what they were talking about, especially since I could have guessed.

* * *

Saturday night was a bit on the busy side. A teenage girl named Ann worked with me. She spent most of her time either texting or flirting with cute guys. Ken stayed in the office, as usual.

I went through my phone briefly to see if there was anyone I could text, but there wasn't, really. Monica was always out on the weekends, and I just didn't have many friends in my phone who I actually talked to on a regular basis. I saw "JP" and winced. John Peters was my last ex. _Was I really that desperate to text him?_ He and I had a decent relationship: we met in the college library my senior year, dated for almost two years (most on and off), had okay sex at his apartment a few times a week, and eventually got bored of each other. He was ten years my senior and a total geek. We had different interests that got in the way of spending quality time together. I never let him meet my parents who close friends, and he did the same. From what I gathered, his sister was a junkie and his mom was a drunk. My mom would have freaked out at the very _idea_ of me having a boyfriend, Dad wouldn't have cared honestly, and my friends would gossip to their parents who would have told my mom! In the end, we had too much respect for each other to expose one another to our crazy families. He and I chatted on Facebook sometimes, mostly through status updates.

As the night wore on, I debated in my head on whether or not to text John. When we were finally getting ready to close and Ann had left, I decided to text him; I'd need something else to do as I passed time when washing all the dishes. **Hey JP**, I texted lamely. I slid my phone into my pocket as Ken walked out from the back. He looked around at the empty café. "Ann washed the tables and took care of the floor before she left?" he asked me.

"Yup, I even made sure she took the hand-vac to the sofas," I answered, collecting the cambros we used during the day for storing coffee and such.

"Since it's Saturday, we have to hose down the alleyway."

_Yuck, we still do that?_ "'Kay, have fun doing that."

"Um I'm not the one doing it." He grabbed the cambros from me.

I glared at him. "I'd rather not wash down an alley late at night alone, thank you very much," I spat, snatching them back.

"Okay, fine," he grumbled before walking off. _Well that was an easy win…_ But somehow I didn't feel so reassured that I had indeed won.

* * *

After I washed all the dishes and cleaned the floors, I was heading outside to take out the trash. I stepped outside and the dim fluorescent light above our back door flickered. I made sure the door didn't close all the way, because it was one of those doors that was locked from the outside. If it shut, I was stuck out there. I tossed the three bags of trash into the large metal dumpster and before I turned around, sure enough, I heard a _click! _

_Oh he fucking did NOT!_

I ran to the door and tried to open it, but yup, Ken had locked me out. "KEN! This isn't funny! Open this fucking door!" I screamed as I pounded on it. I looked around to make sure no one was around.

"I'm not letting you in until you clean up," he said through the door. "And the front door is locked, so don't even think about it; you'll just waste more time."

I felt my pockets. _Fuck! My keys are inside._ I pounded on the door more until my arms were too tired. I panted with my head against the door for a moment, feeling my frustration plateau. I sighed and turned around. I breathed deeply, calming myself down. _Stop freaking out_, I thought to myself. _What are you afraid of, huh? It'll take five stupid minutes. Just wash down the alley, and he'll let you in. Stop being so stubborn. _

I grabbed the hose next to the door and turned it on. I sprayed the ground and sent debris flying. I was almost done when I heard a bunch of shouts down the alley. I looked up quickly to see a bunch of men leaving one of the bars. _Oh. No._ I immediately turned off the hose and started banging on the door again. "Ken!" I said. "I'm done! Please let me in!" But I didn't get a response. I looked down at them again, to see them engaged in drunken conversation with one another. I pressed myself into the door so they wouldn't see me. I glanced down again to see three of the men go toward the street so only one was left and going toward me. _Okay at this point, if he walks by and sees me doing this, he __will__ give me trouble!_ I sighed and slowly stepped out from the shadow of the doorway and grabbed the hose. I started hosing, not looking up at him.

He stopped a few feet away from me and looked at me. "Heh, what the hell are you doin'?" he asked. _Ew, a hick._

"Uh, good evening, sir," I began, not daring to smile as I looked up at him. "I'm just cleaning the alleyway."

"Heh, why you doin' that? It's just gonna get dirty again."

"Well, yes, we clean it weekly to keep it a bit more tidy instead of having it just stink all the time."

"That don't sound so smart." _Uh, irony?_

I continued to hose, and he continued to stand there. I looked at him, brows furrowed now. He was a good foot taller than me and muscular, like he's worked manual labor most his work life. "May I help you, sir?" I asked sternly.

He shrugged. "Maybe." He got closer to me, and I could smell the Captain Morgan from three feet away. I gagged and stepped back. "Fuck off before I call the police," I spat at him, making him laugh. I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911. The man looked at me, seeing if I was bluffing, I think. After a ring and a half, I got the familiar, "911, what's your emergency?"

I told her my location first and then said, "I'm in the alley behind Freddie's and a drunk man is harassing me. My boss locked me out of the café."

"We will have police dispatched as soon as possible," the female dispatcher said.

"You fuckin' bitch!" the man shouted, coming at me. I screamed and sprayed him in the face with the hose. He sputtered and lurched backward, falling on the slippery floor. I banged on the door again. "KEN LET ME IN NOW!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Ma'am, stay calm, and—"

Sharp pain shot through the back of my head, making me fall into the door face-first, dropping my phone. I slid to the floor next to it. I squinted up to see the man holding a wood plank, standing over me. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!" he declared, holding the plank up again. Before he started to bring it down, he was sent flying into the dumpster. I looked around, totally confused. My vision was going blurry from the pain in my head. I heard my phone and I slowly grabbed it and put it to my ear. "Ma'am? Are you still there?" the dispatcher asked.

"Y-yes," I whispered.

"What is happening now? Did he strike you?"

"He did, but…"

The man groaned loudly as he rose from the ground. A large dent was in the dumpster behind him. He looked around wildly, just as confused as I was. "Who the fuck?" he shouted. A figure of a tall, muscular man appeared behind him. There were no other lights around besides the one flickering wildly above me, so I couldn't make out what this second person looked like. They looked like a mass of darkness, making chills go up my spine. "Th-there's someone else here," I whispered frantically into the phone. "Please help me."

"Don't move, help is on the way," the dispatcher said, trying to calm me down.

"The audacity of a man to strike a woman," the figure hissed along with a guttural growl. He then grabbed the drunken man's head and ripped it from his shoulders. I opened my mouth in horror as I faintly saw blood pour from his neck onto the rest of his body. I clamped my hand over my mouth and my body began spasming in shock. The figure then dropped the head and grabbed the body before it fell and slowly put its mouth to the neck hole. I heard loud slurping as I looked away, my eyes popping out of my head, my stomach turning in disgust. The light above me finally when out and I lurched forward and vomited. I heard a dull _thunk_ and looked up to see the figure was gone. I looked around frantically, terror gripping my shaking body. The person was totally gone. I pulled my knees to my chest and sobbed as I put my phone back to my ear.

"The police are there right now," the dispatcher told me. Considering all that she heard, she was done asking me questions and just wanted the call to me over. I heard the sirens start up and get close and closer until they were right in front of Freddie's. Doors slammed and four officers bounded the corner before stopping, guns drawn. One shined a flashlight by the dumpster and I closed my eyes as I heard, "Jesus Christ." One officer retched. The light was shined on me and I squinted at them, blinded.

"Paramedics are on their way, sir," one of the officers said.

"Someone get into this café and get the fucking manager out for Christ's sake!"

"Get a blanket or something for her!"

"Hey, it's okay now," an officer said right above me. He grabbed me and picked me up, carrying me to the cars. Another grabbed my phone and chatted with the 911 dispatcher before hanging it up and going through my contacts to call my parents. I kept my eyes closed after that, my head throbbing from sharp pain, my stomach flipping in disgust.

* * *

Through the next hour, I remember seeing the following:

Ken getting questioned, then arrested.

Myself getting wrapped up in a shock blanket while paramedics examined my head before everyone realized my head wound was worse than it looked.

Being driven to the hospital.

Waking up even more hours later, hooked up to machines with my head bandaged up.

A nurse bringing me gross food and my parents looking relieved and worried as they hugged me.

"Honey, we were so worried," Mom hoarsely whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks and smearing on my face when she kissed me over twenty times.

Dad simply held my hand, his eyes red from crying. "Cupcake, that was scary," he managed to say after a second.

"I-I'm fine now, I think," I choked, tears blurring my vision. I sat up slowly and felt my bandaged head.

"You had very minor surgery," Mom explained, straightening my pillow behind me. "They said you were hit in the head with a wood object or whatever, and it left a dent in your skull, but no internal bleeding, praise Jesus."

"It did leave a few long splinters, and they removed them," Dad finished.

"They didn't shave my head?" I asked, poking at the gelatin in front of me.

"No, all your hair is intact."

"Well…that's a relief."

"The police also want to talk to you," Mom whispered.

"Right _now?_"

"Whenever you feel up to it," Dad said gently.

"How about never?"

"Randi-Lee, you have to help them with their investigation," Mom said, a bit sternly, making Dad give her a side-eye.

"Mom, you don't know what I saw, okay?" I spat, a bit more harshly than I meant. "You weren't there…" I looked down at my gelatin and was thankful that it was one of the green ones as I dug my spoon in.

"We need to talk, _honey_," Dad hissed as he grabbed Mom's upper arm and whisked her out of my room as the nurse reentered. The nurse forced a smile at me, and said, "If you don't mind, Miss Jackson, Detective Bosner would really appreciate it if he could have a word with you."

_Might as well get it over with instead of putting it off._ "Fine," I sighed. "Bring them in."


	6. Bosner

Det. Bosner was a short man, about my height of 5'6". He was of some Native American descent and had skin the color of coffee and long black hair tied back into a neat braid. He pulled up a chair and sat beside my bed. His gentle, round brown eyes met my hardened gaze, yet his didn't falter. Instead he smiled, the creases on his face showing his age to be about late forties. "I know you had a very rough night, ma'am," he began in a very soothing, gentle voice, "but it'd mean the world to us if we could get your statement on the incident."

"Why can't you get it later?" I asked, sounding bitchy, but I was tired and combatting the images of last night from flooding back into memory.

"If we get it as soon as possible, less chances of discrepancies in your claims."

"I'm never going to be able to forget this," I muttered before taking a bite of the plain ham sandwich before me.

"I understand that you saw something terrible, Miss Jackson. I'm not going to pester you for the gruesome details. I visited the crime scene; I saw those details already. Let's just start at the very beginning. Why were you out there?" He placed a tape recorder on his knee and held a notebook and pen in his hand, ready.

"My manager, Ken, wanted me to wash down the alleyway, but I didn't want to. It's late on a Saturday night, and there are a few bars right around the café. I didn't want to get bothered or harassed by any drunks." _So much for that plan._ "When I went to take the trash out, however, Ken locked me out and told me he wasn't going to let me in until I cleaned the alley. My keys were inside, so I couldn't just drive off. I figured, might as well since I was there."

"Is that when you got harassed?"

"Yeah. A bunch of guys, including the…um…"

"Victim."

"Is it really fair to call him a victim when I got attacked?"

"I understand how you feel right now, but the man was murdered, so yes, he, too, is a victim."

I sighed. "Fair enough. He left a bar maybe like two hundred feet down the alley with three other men. The other men went toward the street and he kept coming toward my area. I tried to bang on the door more to get Ken's attention but to no avail. The guy walked up, tried talking to me, but I wasn't having it. I told him I'd call the cops if he didn't leave me alone, and he didn't, so I called 911. He tried to get closer to me and I sprayed him in the face with the hose. He fell, I banged on the door and shouted, and while I did that, he struck me in the back of my head. I fell, down, and then…he hit the dumpster."

"What do you mean, 'he hit the dumpster'?"

"I mean what I said, like something punched him into the dumpster."

"You mean someone?"

"_NO_, some_thing_. What person has the strength to punch someone so hard, they fly five feet into a dumpster and leave a dent? No one. I really don't want to call the thing I saw a person, because they weren't a person."

Det. Bosner smiled a bit. "I must say, I believe you there, Miss Jackson. Continue."

"When the drunk guy stood back up, the thing appeared behind him, said…something about hitting women…and…it removed his head." I slowly pushed my food away from me, feeling sick again. "And it dropped the head and…I'm pretty sure I saw it _drink_ the blood from the body. Also pretty sure that was when I threw up. And it was gone. And the police showed up. And that's all. That's everything." I looked at Det. Bosner, who didn't look as disgusted as I thought he would; he looked more angry than anything.

"Can you describe what this…'thing' looked like?" he asked me.

"Male, tall, like maybe…at least six feet. Muscular."

"Race or ethnicity?"

"I have no idea. It was dark and I could barely see. My head hurt a lot."

"Hm." He didn't seem satisfied with that answer. I didn't care. "Well, that's all I have to say about it," I stated. "So can I be alone now?"

"You don't want me to send your parents back in here?" he offered, surprised.

"Especially not them." I settled into my bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Jackson. We will contact you when we charge your manager in court."

"I'm pressing charges?"

"Well your mother surely is."

_She would. _"Mm."

"And if we need anything else, we'll contact you. Have a speedy recovery."

I heard him leave, and I glanced at my bedside table to see his card. I saw my phone next to it and grabbed it. It was on the charger, making me smile. _Thanks, Dad._ I looked to see I got a handful of messages. Three from Monica, one from Misty, and one from…

JP.

_Fuck, I forgot I texted him. _I sighed and responded to Misty's, then Monica's. Misty's was a simple **Omg heard about what happened, get back me when ur better 333** but Monica's went like this:

**OMG I HEARD SOMETHING HAPPENED AT FREDDIE'S? Get at me.**

**SHIT SHIT you got hurt oh my fucking god Randi! I'm coming to the hospital ASAP!**

**I'm stuck at work, but as soon as I can get out, I'm going over to SEE YOU! PLEASE BE OKAY!**

I rubbed my head slowly and looked at JP's simple, **Hey RL, what up?**

I smiled and texted back, **Hey I actually got hurt at work last night. It's probably all over the news, and it's like 6am so you're probably resting, so just text me when you're free. Just know that I'm fine and don't listen to any rumors you might hear on FB or w/e.**

I lay in bed, hoping John didn't take this as some sign that we needed to be together again or some shit like that. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

* * *

The next day I was well enough to head home. Monica had spent the last half on Sunday in my room, talking with me. She was a real mess. "I actually thought you were disfigured or had something amputated!" she had cried.

"What the fuck gave you _that_ idea," I asked, making my way through the bag of gummy worms she had brought me.

"I DON'T KNOW, OKAY? I'M JUST HYSTERICAL." She sobbed for a good half hour after. I figured she was PMSing or something, because that was intense even for her.

Dad had an arm around me as we trekked to the car. We had to go slowly, else I got dizzy. We got Whataburger on the way home, Monica in the car with us. "Your manager is going to burn in Hell!" Mom spat as she drove us home. I dug into my fries and rolled my eyes.

"He's not the one who did it to her," Dad hissed between bites of burger.

"No, but if he hadn't locked our baby out there, _none_ of this would've happened!"

"Mom, just shut up," I grumbled. "Ken will get his."

"What would he even be charged with?" Monica asked, mouth full of fries.

"Most likely reckless endangerment," Dad responded. "He'll probably plead guilty, too."

"As long as he's fired, I don't care," I said. I stared out the window, sighing, "I never liked him anyway."

* * *

Monica left after spending another hour with me. I sat in my room and updated my Facebook status: "**Hey everyone. It's true that I got injured at work. Just want everyone to know I'm fine. :)" **That immediately got about ten likes. My phone rang beside me. I looked down to see "JP calling". I felt my face get hot a little as I answered. "Hey."

"It's great to hear your voice, Randi-Lee," he said, a bit shakily. "I heard what…We just haven't really talked in so long, and I was thinking if anything…Wow, I'm rambling, how are you?"

I laughed and played with the edges of my blanket. _Why do I feel like a giddy schoolgirl?_ "I'm fine, _really_. I feel alive. A bit sore, but alive."

"What even happened to you?"

For a moment, my mind debated on which details to tell him. "Well my boss was an ass and locked me out of the café so I could clean the alley. I got harassed, and then _attacked_ by a drunk man, who was then murdered in front of me."

There was a really long pause. "John?" I asked, hoping my phone didn't drop the call.

"Holy _fuck_, Randi-Lee," he breathed. "How…can you be okay after that?"

"By not thinking about it, mostly."

"Yeah, right, of course. I'm being an ass. I…can't believe you went through that."

"Me neither."

"Were your injuries bad?"

"No, just a dented skull and some splinters in my head, but they were removed, and I'm perfectly fine. I could've stayed another night, but it's expensive, and I don't like all the media attention outside the hospital."

"I'm guessing the police are bugging you?"

"Yup. Got my statement once, and you know they're going to get it over and over again."

"This is just so terrible. We need to hang out again. It's been years since we even talked regularly."

"I know! I was thinking that exact thing. That's why I texted you that night."

"I'm just glad that it wasn't your last text to me." I felt myself blush deeply as a smile took over my face and tears built up in my eyes. "Well I'm sure you'll be wanting to rest," he said, clearing his throat. "I mean, you've been through a lot."

"Yeah it'd be nice to sleep without an IV in my arm. But I'll definitely be texting you later."

"See ya, kid." I couldn't help but giggle as I hung up. It was nice talking to John again. I immediately felt guilty for sounding flirty; as much as he made me feel great, I was done with the possibility of a romantic relationship with him. We worked better as friends, and we both had agreed on it. (It'd be nice in Monica agreed; in her eyes, since we got along _so_ well, it was "proof that we belonged together". Yuck.)

I shook off my guilt and reached over to close my blinds. My room was nice and dark. I smiled and settled into my comfortable bed.

* * *

I awoke from my nap sweating. I sat up, feeling my face and arms. The air around me felt humid. I looked around my room and saw that everything was fine: window was still closed with my blinds closed, my room fan wasn't on, door was closed. I turned on my fan and went to my widow. I reached through the blinds and slid my window open to feel the temperature outside. It was incredibly humid that day. I figured the air was seeping through the cracks along the panes, as it did in the summer. I shook my head and closed the window. I paused and locked it. I had never done it before, but I felt that I finally had a reason to.

* * *

"Randi-Lee, Det. Bosner is here to talk with you again," Mom told me from my doorway.

I looked up at her from my bed, in mid-bite of my macaroni and cheese, probably looking annoyed. "Again? Already?" I asked, incredulously.

"They try to finish up their investigation within a few days, honey."

"I don't really want to be bothered."

"I know, but the faster you help them, the faster they leave you alone and we can focus on screwing your manager." She left and I shook my head, smiling. Ken was lucky that my mother wasn't the judge, else she might give him the chair.

Det. Bosner entered my room, glancing around at the posters and pictures on my walls. "Good evening, Miss Jackson," he greeted as he stood next to my bed.

"You can sit in my computer chair," I offered to him.

"I appreciate that." He slid my chair by my bed and sat.

"Did Mom offer you some dinner?"

"Yes, she did, but I already ate. She's a very persistent woman, however, so I may grab a plate to go before I leave." I shared a quiet smile with him. I finished my food and placed my bowl on my computer desk. "I'm just here to ask you the same questions, pretty much," he explained, readying his notebook and tape recorder again. "Mostly to see if you unexpectedly remember any other minor or identifying details."

"I understand." I drank some water to wash down dinner remnant and then recanted the night to him. I went slowly, as to make sure I didn't leave anything out. When I was done, he asked, "Can you possibly remember anything about what the suspect looked like?"

"Not at all. It was so dark, the light above me went out, there are no other lights there, as you probably know now. Just that maybe it was about six feet and it was muscular, like I said last time. Though…when I think about it, I don't think it had hair. Bald or shaved head."

"Alright, thank you for that. I know you went through a lot, and me coming in here and asking you to relive it isn't help you. But I want you to know that you aiding this investigation brings us a bit closer to getting that maniac off the streets."

"Yes, sir, I understand that. I'm happy to help."

Det. Bosner politely nodded his head before getting up and pushing my chair back into place. "You rest now, Miss, and I'd recommend you watch your back, especially at night." He left, and I glanced at my window, thankful I decided to lock it from then on.


	7. Vampire?

Mr. Steward came over on Monday. He brought a card signed by all my coworkers at Freddie's. I smiled as I read it and ran my finger over the signatures. We were sitting in the kitchen as Mom played hostess and poured hot tea for the three of us. Mr. Steward was deep into his sixties with white hair combed back which usually hid under his bowler hat. Since he was inside a home, he had it off and resting on his sleek black cane. He looked at me from behind round spectacles and smiled politely at my mother when she neared. "I can't apologize enough for what Ken did," he said for the billionth time.

"It's _not_ your fault," I reassured him, placing my hand lightly on his wrinkled one.

"I was the one who hired him." He sounded so regretful and it broke my heart.

"He'll get his, don't worry, Frank," Mom said, sitting next to Mr. Steward and feeling his shoulder.

"Maybe Mom should do the background checks for all your applying managers," I joked, making her laugh. A rare, but beautiful sound was my mother's laughter. It made her face look young again, and it lit up her eyes. I could hardly look away.

"You can take as much time off as you need," Mr. Steward continued. "Heck, I wouldn't blame you if you never came back."

"Mr. Steward, of course I'm not going to leave," I said, squeezing his hand. "I love working at Freddie's, and I'm not going to leave any time soon. But I will take some time off. To more fully recover, and all."

"As much as you need," he repeated, smiling at me.

I got up to wash dishes as he and Mom talked about other things, and of course, my parents' divorce came up.

"What? That's terrible," Mr. Steward said, spitting out some tea.

"Yes, it's been hard on all of us," Mom said innocently, wiping up the tea. "How am I supposed to be a devoted mother and wife when my husband is out _cheating_. I'd rather he had left us, honestly."

I clenched my teeth. _Yes_, my father was 200% to blame for the cheating, but of course Mom would never tell anyone that their romantic relationship was over for probably years before he even thought about it. The cheating was just his nails in the coffin that was already built by both of them.

"I'm gonna go rest," I said, walking away without looking at them.

"It's been especially hard on Randi-Lee," Mom muttered as I left, and that wasn't a lie, actually. _What a surprise._

* * *

Monica was going to a warehouse party that night and invited me. My head was still a bit sore, but I felt I was well enough to go out and have a few drinks. The warehouse was on the outskirts of the Houston area in the southeast region. I kept a beanie on my head to hide the last of my bandages that I was _itching_ to get rid of. I took one of my prescribed pain meds when we parked outside the large building. There were dozens of cars around us and even more people making their way inside. "I'm not gonna be partying very hard tonight," I informed her as we got ready to head inside.

"I know," she said. "I don't care, anyway. I'm just glad you're alive." I forced a smile at her and we went inside.

The warehouse was set up like any other nightclub: bar, dance area, sitting area. We hung out by the bar, sitting at it and talking over a couple drinks. I had a couple light beers over the course of the few hours we were there. Monica told me how she was trying to get with this guy who had a girlfriend, Derek. "Monica, if you really want a boyfriend, find one _without_ a girlfriend," I said over the loud music, shaking my head.

"He's told me a few times that he thinks they're gonna break up," she defended, pouting.

"Yeah until they're actually broken up, I'd say he's off limits. Besides, why get with a guy who obviously doesn't value his relationships?"

"Ugh fine, right as always."

I stared at my drink for a while before saying, "I talked to JP recently."

"Oh my god."

"We're not getting back together, so forget it."

"And why not?!"

"Monica, our relationship is over."

"But you two are so good together!"

"Yeah, as siblings maybe."

"That's gross, you guys had sex and stuff."

"I know; our relationship was dull though. Even the sex wasn't very exhilarating, you know. Most of the time when I went to his apartment, we just watched TV and played board games."

"Well, yeah, that sounds boring as fuck."

"It wasn't really boring; it was fun, and fitting. But I don't want a dull relationship. Hell, my parents' relationship wasn't really all that dull at first but then it died, and now it's hard a corpse."

"Yeah I guess seeing your parents' split has made you want different things, huh?"

"Pretty much." I finished my beer and sighed, rubbing my temples, not wanting to talk about my parents. "JP is one of those guys who is there to see my kids grow up, not help me raise them. And I'm okay with that! If we went out again, it'd end the same way. I'm not going to stay stuck in a meaningless relationship when there's a person I can love out there somewhere." Of course that brought me to thinking of my parents again. I finished my drink with a sigh. "Want to go outside?" Monica asked suddenly.

"Actually, that'd be a good idea," I said. I had my drinks and the loud music was starting to irritate me.

We went out a side door and walked around to the back of the warehouse. I was confused as to why we didn't just go out to her car until she pulled out a pack of smokes from her purse. She had been an on-and-off smoker since her teen years, but at that point I had thought she quit months prior. I gave her a look and she just shrugged as she lit up.

I glanced around to see scores of couples fooling around under the lights that lined the overhang above us all.t gave everyone and everything an eerie greenish glow. "You don't mind being out here, right?" she asked me. "I mean, since what happened and all…"

"No, it's fine," I said, waving some smoke away from my face. "I mean, this area is lit, and there are a lot of people here."

"That's good."

I looked at the couples: some doing drugs, giving/receiving oral, outright having sex. My eyes fell to the right of us to see a lone couple right under a light, chatting. I instantly recognized the man as Augusti, talking the short blonde. I could see his fangs and I noticed he was sporting dreads again. _I guess it is a wig_. The blonde girl went inside abruptly, and he sighed and rubbed his face. _Rejected, maybe? Who the hell would ever reject him?_ And then I saw his fangs again. _Oh, yeah, that's right._ He glanced over and saw me and took a double take before smiling and walking over. My heart pounded as his tall, sexy frame neared. Monica stared at him and put out her cigarette on the wall. "You know this guy?" she whispered to me.

"Uh, yeah, we've hooked up before," I said absentmindedly as a smile took over my face. I heard her sputter like an old car and knew I'd be getting a _talk_ from her later. "Hey, Augusti," I greeted once he was close enough.

"Randi-Lee, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, and this is one of my closest friends, Monica."

"Pretty name for a pretty young woman."

"Th-thanks," Monica stammered, looking him up and down.

I saw red flashes in his eyes and figured he was wearing his contacts. His eyes were locked on me which made me feel a bit awkward for Monica. "I'll go inside and sit at the bar," Monica said after a moment. "Text me, Randi-Lee."

"Yeah, I will," I said, not breaking eye contact with Augusti. I heard her footsteps fade away. He slowly moved toward me in a way that made my body instantly step backward until my back lightly hit the wall. He stopped as well, and I saw this was what he wanted. "So how have you been?" I asked, my breathing off.

"Well," he breathed huskily. "You?"

"Been better."

"Anything happen lately?"

"It's a long story. Now's not really the time for it."

"Understandable."

He placed his finger on my chin to lift my head up slowly to gently kiss my forehead. I breathed out and closed my eyes. "So you're doing your whole vampire thing tonight?" I asked.

"Yup. Still don't like it?"

"I dunno, it's kind of sexy when I expect it, I guess."

"I'm glad you like it." He glanced at my beanie, silent. "Nice…hat."

"Ergh. It's just until my head heals."

"Your head?" He tilted his head slowly. He looked so mechanical tonight.

"I got injured."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Uh…" _I thought we were just fucking? Not sharing stories all of a sudden._ "I mean." I crossed my arms and leaned to one side. "It's beginning to look like you want to, so I guess we can."

He sighed and looked around. "You'll have to tell your friend—"

"Monica."

"Yeah, whatever. Tell her you're going home with me."

"Am I actually going home with you, though?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"Then what are we _actually_ doing?"

"Getting in my car and talking." He could tell by the look on my face that that didn't settle well with me. "Okay, what do you want to do?" he asked, a bit exasperated.

"I want to know exactly what you want to do," I said pointedly.

"I just want to talk with you. It's…important."

"And you think that talking in your car is a good idea? You're starting to weird me out again. Okay, sure, we fucked and all, but all of a sudden you want to just talk in your car? I don't like how that sounds."

He nodded. "I understand how that sounds more suspicious to you. We can go somewhere public where most the people are sober, if you'd like. Monica can drive you and drop you off, someone else can pick you up when we're done talking."

"Monica can't be there with us?"

"No," he hissed, sending shivers all over my body and making my stomach tighten in fear. "It's to be the two of us. Only," he made clear. _Why couldn't I say no to him?_ I just nodded, my head feeling like a bobblehead.

* * *

We settled upon Denny's in Pasadena. Monica drove me there and I asked Dad to pick me up. He liked staying up, anyway. I was silent in the car, making Monica worry. "My head, is all," I lied.

"Then maybe you should go home instead of having Denny's with this guy," she scolded.

"He wants to talk, and I'll be fine. Some food won't hurt me." Out of the corner of my eye I saw her glance at me the whole ride. She dropped me off, and before I got out, she said, "Call me if _anything_ happens!" I rolled my eyes and slammed the door shut. She drove off slowly and I saw an old blue Ford truck park in front of the Denny's. Augusti got out and didn't even bother locking the door before walking up to me. He opened the doors of the restaurant for me and told the waitress, "Booth for two" before she could even greet us, taking her by surprise. I glanced at my cell phone to see it was nearing eleven and looked around to see only a couple of people here and there. The nervous waitress quickly took us to a booth and placed our menus in front of us as we sat.

Augusti watched me flip through the pages until I settled on a plate of pancakes. I looked at him. "Already know what you want?" I asked. He nodded and our waitress came back. I ordered my pancakes and a Coke and he ordered one cup of coffee, no sugars, no cream. She brought me my Coke and a couple of waters and quickly walked off. "So," I began after a sip of soda, "what's this about?"

"You have to try to remain calm and collected while I tell you what I'm about to tell you," he said. _Oh my god, does he have an STD?_ My mouth went dry and I drank a huge gulp of water, nodding. He sighed and clenched his fists. "You're already freaking out," he snapped.

"Okay, what reason do I have to _not_ be freaked out?" I demanded, slamming my water against the table. "So far this is sounding like you're telling me bad news!"

"It doesn't have to be bad news, actually."

_What kind of cryptic bullshit…_ I sighed and nodded. "Fine, I'll _try_ to be as calm as I possibly can, okay? But if this involves my health—"

"It might, depending on some things," he said quietly. I shifted nervous and rested my chin on my hand, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to continue. He cleared his throat some as our waitress brought him a cup of coffee. He sniffed it and smiled slightly before looking at me, eyes red and piercing.

"So…I'm a vampire, like an actual one," he said matter-of-factly before taking a small sip of coffee. I didn't feel anything after he spoke. Not even confusion. Just…_what?_ I didn't really believe what he just said. Eventually an awkward laugh escaped my mouth. He didn't move. "Uh…okay," I said, giggling. I drank some more soda, laughing, but not feeling amused. _Time to text Dad._

"I'm not joking," he said, more seriously. My smile disappeared and I stared at him. He looked…so _serious_. Our waitress reappeared and placed the stack of pancakes in front of me. I forced a smile at her, but she didn't even notice; she was too busy not looking at Augusti. I absently spread the butter on the cakes before pouring some syrup over the one on top. "So are you trying to tell me you want to drink my blood?" I asked finally.

"No, actually," he said.

"Okay so why is this relevant? Is this your way of telling me you are really into your lifestyle and you want to date me so I'm going to have to deal with this?"

"No, not even close." He leaned forward slowly as I took a small bite of pancake. It didn't taste like anything and just kind of sat in my mouth before I forced it down my constricted throat. "I was there that night. In the alley. I killed that drunk man. I saved you, Randi-Lee."

I froze, my body suddenly feeling hard like a statue. I dropped my fork and stared at him. I stared and studied him. _Well, is was tall enough. He could have… Except VAMPIRES DON'T EXIST. THEY'RE NOT REAL._ "Y-you're not really a fucking vampire," I spat, shaking. "I don't know how you know about Saturday, but—"

"If vampires aren't real, then how was I able to separate his head from his body?"

"Stop talking!" I screamed immediately, making the other patrons stare at us. I looked around, sweating, freezing, unable to breathe. I grabbed my purse and ran into the bathroom. I ran into a stall and locked the door. I sat down, calming myself as much as I could. I took a big deep breath and took my phone out of my purse. My hands were shaking so much; I could hardly unlock it to call my dad. I heard a small noise and looked down and saw Augusti's feet from under the door.

"Open up, please," he asked.

"N-no!" I whispered. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

"Do you believe me?" He put his hand on the door and jiggled it in a way that made the lock slide over so the stall was unlocked. He opened it slowly and looked at my trembling frame. _Is he going to kill me?_ I shook my head. "What would make you believe me?" he asked.

"I-I don't…" I could hardly speak.

He suddenly kneeled in front of me and placed his big hands on my thighs, making me jump from the contact. "Tell me."

"Wh-why does it even fucking matter?" I said, tears building up in my eyes.

"Because I want to be honest with you and let you know I'm not a threat to you."

"WHY?!"

"First let me prove it." He stood up and put his hand on top of his head. He gripped his wig and began to pull it off slowly. He made no face as the wig—which was obviously super-glued on—was coming off. Glue was still stuck between his bald head and the wig as he pulled, and I knew for a fact that if that was a normal person, it would've taken at _least_ skin off. I put my hand to my mouth as I watched him pluck dried bits of super glue from his head. Or was it _hot glue?_ "What the fuck," I said, feeling my stomach do turns. I felt like puking again. He rubbed his head and looked at my reaction.

He knew it before I did; he suddenly grabbed me and spun me around so I faced the toilet. I threw up a moment later and coughed and spit, getting the last bitter bits out of my mouth. He carried me, as easily as one carries a doll, over to the sink so I could rinse out my mouth. I spit the water into the sink and stared at the white porcelain. _So…he's a vampire? Or maybe he's on drugs. Yeah, a druggie. Is he going to eat my face off then?_ He stood me up and made me look at him.

"Can we go back to the table now?" he asked me. I simply nodded. At this point I was trying to block out my emotions and stay calm in case he tried to kidnap me. I had my phone in a death grip on my hand still, which Augusti noticed. He slowly wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pressed, making me drop my phone, which he then caught with the same hand he just had on my wrist. I blinked and stared at his hand. _How did he just do that?_ _Maybe he's an illusionist…_

We sat down just as the waitress was approaching our table. "Uh, still working on everything?" she asked before she noticed Augusti's now bald head, which made her eyes widen in confusion.

"Yeah," I breathed while Augusti gave a simple nod. I stared at the syrupy pancakes beneath me as I heard her scurry away.

"You should try to eat," he suggested.

"As if," I snorted. I pushed the plate away from me defiantly.

"I don't feel as if you believe me," he said.

"I don't think you're a vampire, no."

"You think I'm crazy."

"Yup, and probably on drugs."

"Then why didn't my skin come off when I pulled my wig off? Why is my skin cold and hard? Why don't I have a heartbeat?"

"Okay, I can't explain your first two questions, but you _have_ a heartbeat! Every person has one! I've even seen you breathe."

"I don't _need_ to breathe." He grabbed my wrist sharply and yanked me forward, placing my shaking hand on his chest, over his heart. He held it there so hard that I thought my hand would go through him. We both paused, and sure enough, I didn't feel anything, He stared at me intently as his chest remained motionless. I suddenly got intense shivers all over my sweaty body, making me tremble violently. My mind began racing. I couldn't even begin to comprehend what I was seeing and feeling and what he was saying. "Wh-what do you want from me?" I managed to mumble as my brain was desperately trying to come up with excuses and reasons.

"Ah, yes, the other point of this…dinner," he said, his eyes almost lighting up in a way. "I'm guessing that your mind is racing right now as you try to rationalize, which is good. You're a fairly smart and mentally healthy woman, so I figured that this would be difficult. I _needed _to tell you. I'd have been unfair to you if I didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Randi-Lee, it's no secret that I'm sexually attracted to you. I do wish to continue having a casual sexual relationship when we bump into each other. Knowing that you saw me kill another person, it's my moral duty to be honest with you if we're to be in a consenting sexual relationship. And I want you to know that I only did it to protect you."

"You didn't have to _kill_ him!" I interrupted, regaining myself a little. "And were you stalking me?"

"I live in the area and I heard you scream. I have hearing better than most animals on the planet. I recognized that it belonged to you and investigated. I suppose I didn't have to kill him, but I hope you understand that's part of my nature."

"How many people have you killed?"

"I don't know off the top of my head but later I can give you an exact number."

I stared at him, my teeth clenched. I was sitting across from a self-professed murderer. Who I had sex with. _He's lying. He has to be._ But everything he had said was making sense. He was about the height of the killer. And he has shown extreme speed and strength already. _When we had sex, he was so quick and rough._ My mind showed flashes of his dark skin against mine, the feeling of his hips meeting the backs of my thighs over and over. I caught my breath as I felt a shift in my nether regions. It seemed to affect him greatly, too, as his eyes got wide and he opened his mouth to have his fangs pop out. I jumped in surprise and watched him breathe in deeply. "You're thinking about _that_ at a time like _this?"_ he asked playfully, smiling at me."

"How do you know what I'm thinking about?" I snapped.

"I smelled the change in your body just as you felt it. Still don't believe me?"

"I-I want to go home," I whispered, feeling more confused.

"That's no problem." He handed me my cell phone. "And don't worry about me 'stalking' you. I have no idea where you live. I never have and never will stalk you."

I quickly texted my dad and asked him to pick me up ASAP. **On my way already. Be there in 5. Everything ok?** was his quick response.

**Yeah I'm just super tired**, I texted back before I slipped it into my pocket.

"I don't want you to fear me and I never wanted to alter your life," Augusti professed, gripping my hands lightly. "If you want me to leave you alone forever, I will oblige. But I needed to tell you, and I needed to be honest with you whether you still want contact with me or not. I want you to think this over. It's a lot for you; you went through a very traumatic experience in that alley. Your mind is fragile enough, and this won't help, but it's necessary. When you want to speak with me again, just come to town. I'll find you." He let go of my hands and stood up. He placed a $20 bill on the table and looked at me. "Your father is here. I'll leave you. Goodnight." He quickly strode out to his truck as Dad pulled up out front.

I slowly stood up, feeling drained and sapped. I managed to make it to the car and get myself in. "Wow you really are tired," Dad said, looking very concerned.

I faked a smile and buckled myself in. "I'll be fine," I said.

"You should have stayed home," he mumbled.

I stared out the window as we drove off, suddenly wary of every shadow I saw.


End file.
